


The Dangers We Face

by Cantatrice18



Category: Incredibles (Pixar Movies)
Genre: Family Bonding, Family Feels, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Growing Up, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Movie: Incredibles 2 (2018)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-04
Updated: 2018-08-04
Packaged: 2019-06-21 22:22:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15567621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cantatrice18/pseuds/Cantatrice18
Summary: Violet overhears a private conversation between her parents and understands for the first time why her mom has always been so conflicted about having the kids become true superheroes.Spoilers for Incredibles 2.





	The Dangers We Face

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by EmonyDeborah, who made me wonder about the physical and emotional aftermath of the events of Incredibles 2.

Tony Rydinger had asked again.

Violet never would have believed it. Not after the Water Incident, or the Locker Debacle. Yet here she was, torn between nerves and excitement, her thoughts racing. What would her parents say?

It was nearly eleven o’clock, past the bedtime she was really too old to have anymore. Still, she hoped they’d understand. Tony wanted to meet up tomorrow after school, and unless she felt like being grounded until she was thirty she needed at least one parent’s permission. Preferably Dad’s, as he still felt guilty for messing up her chances with Tony the first time around. Mom might be a bit harder to convince. These days she seemed more protective than ever of her kids, though with Jack Jack’s constant bursts of power it was understandable that she’d want to keep a low profile. It was hard to hide the fact that a baby was super when that baby kept lighting on fire or multiplying. 

Violet crept out of her room, tiptoeing past her brother’s door. The last thing she needed was teasing right now, and she knew she’d be in for a slew of immature mockery the moment Dash found out about Tony. She shuddered and instinctively turned invisible as she padded down the hallway, wishing that Edna had made her pajamas and not just her super suit. It was hardly worth being invisible when your clothes stayed the same. 

The light was still on in her parents’ room: a good sign. As she approached she heard low voices. Just as she reached the door and raised her hand to knock, a moan of pain emanated from inside the room. Stifling a gasp, she bent to peer through the keyhole.

Her mother lay face down on the bed. The oversized shirt she’d taken to wearing as pajamas was nowhere to be found. Instead a light blue camisole covered her back, leaving her shoulders bare. On her left shoulder a blackened mark spread like a sunburst, its center red and raw. Violet’s father leaned over his wife, an expression of deep concern on his face as he dabbed at the wound with a wet cloth. “You should see someone about this,” he told her softly. “It’s been weeks now.”

Helen’s neck stretched at an alarming angle as she shook her head. “No need. It’ll heal eventually. I just keep stretching it, which makes it worse.”

“Mmm,” Bob hummed, clearly unconvinced. “Yet I seem to remember you sustained some spectacular electrical burns a week before our wedding, and had them healed up perfectly by the time you walked down the aisle.”

Helen sighed. “That was before. I was younger then. My body hadn’t gone through the strain of having kids, of years of neglect. You more than anyone ought to understand what it means for a body to age.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Bob asked indignantly. Violet noticed that though his tone was sharp, his hands remained gentle as he tended his wife’s injured shoulder. 

Helen sighed. “It means we’re not who we used to be. Fifteen years, Bob. Is it as effortless for you now as it was then? Tell me the truth.” When her husband didn’t answer, she smiled sadly. “Sometimes I just want to leave hero work to the younger supers, the ones itching to prove themselves.”

“Like Voyd?” Bob asked doubtfully.

Helen nodded, twisting her neck like a cook wringing out a dishtowel in order to get a better look at him. “Voyd, yes, and others. But then I remember our kids. I don’t want them out there alone.”

“They took care of themselves pretty darn well on the Everjust,” Bob said quietly. 

“I know they did. That’s what worries me.” Stretching an arm, Helen waved her husband away and sat up, smoothing her camisole. “Bob, you saw the footage from my suit. You know what Evelyn did to me. Do you really want that happening to one of our kids?”

Bob winced as though she’d hit him. “We won’t let that happen.”

“We won’t always be here,” Helen pointed out gently. “And even if we try to help them, we may not always succeed.”

“What would you have them do, then?” Bob demanded, his voice threatening to rise. “Hide like civilians their whole lives? Live in fear of discovery?”

“I don’t know,” Helen whispered, and Violet was stunned to hear the tremor in her mother’s voice. “I just don’t know. All I know is that this –“ she gestured at the burn on her shoulder, “this is nothing compared to what could have happened. Bob, I was tied down.” Her voice was pleading as she met his eyes. “Evelyn could have done anything to me. Our kids are growing up so fast, and there are monsters out there that make Evelyn look like a saint. If some twisted villain got his hands on Violet. . . if anyone touched her—“ 

She broke off, unable to continue. Bob swept her into his arms without a moment’s hesitation, holding her close to his chest. Though his body blocked Helen from view, Violet could hear her mother’s muffled sobs. Taking two slow steps backwards, she turned and walked slowly back toward her room. She’d never understood why her mother was so dead set against them using their powers. Her mom was a champion worrier, but it was one thing to stress about getting to ballet class on time, and another thing entirely to . . . 

Violet paused, leaning against the wall between a potted ficus tree and a family portrait taken when Dash was only two. Normally her parents kept the portrait in the safe deposit box, but when their house was destroyed her mother had taken the picture out, claiming it reminded her of what really mattered: their family. Violet closed her eyes and allowed herself to imagine for just one moment what might have happened on the Everjust, or on Syndrome’s island before that, had things taken a turn for the worse. Hero work was thrilling, enticing, a way to finally use her talents for something other than dodging the mean girls in her class. But it was also dangerous in ways she’d never considered. The burn mark on her mother’s shoulder glowed white hot in her memory. She knew the odds of supers dying of natural causes were very low. The idea of reading Elastigirl’s obituary in the paper, or attending a memorial service for Mr. Incredible, made her want to curl up into a ball and turn invisible forever. She felt tears running down her cheeks as she struggled to control herself. Loss, even only a potential loss, was the worst feeling imaginable. 

“Violet?”

Violet jumped and looked up. Helen was standing in the middle of the hallway, staring down at her with concern in her brown eyes. Violet leapt to her feet and raced to her mother, catching her around the waist and hugging her tightly. The tears came faster now, a rush of emotion out of her control. “I’m sorry,” she choked out. “I’m so sorry, I never meant to make you, to have you feel so—“

She broke off, unable to continue. Her mother rubbed her back in slow circles, making “shh” noises to calm her. “Tell me what’s wrong, sweetie,” Helen murmured. “Has something happened? At school, or—“

Violet shook her head, then belatedly realized she was still invisible. Taking a deep breath, she let her body return to normal. “I’m sorry we’re super,” Violet whispered, staring at the floor. “I’m sorry we can’t hide it, I’m sorry we’re always using our powers. I wish I were normal, it would be so much easier for everyone.”

Helen shrank around her middle until she could slide through Violet’s clinging arms to kneel in front of her daughter. Placing a gentle hand beneath Violet’s chin, she guided the girl’s gaze upward until their eyes met. “Have I ever told you about the time I tried to get rid of my powers?”

“Get rid . . .” Violet shook her head, interest piqued.

Helen smiled. “I was your age. I’d been teased into hiding my stretch, but sometimes it just came out anyway. When I spotted something about to fall from a shelf, say, or when I dropped a pencil in class. My parents threatened to pull me out of school if I didn’t learn to control myself better. So I made up my mind to destroy my powers, to drive them out of me through sheer will.” Helen’s smile was almost nostalgic. “I started by stretching every limb as far as I could and holding them there until I was exhausted. That worked for a brief respite, enough to get through a class, but pretty soon my flexibility had increased even more. Then I decided to attach metal rods to my arms with tape, to keep me from stretching. But my arms just got thin enough to slip through the tape. I tried everything I could think of, but nothing worked, and you know why? Because my stretch is a part of me, just like turning invisible is a part of you.” She kissed her daughter’s forehead. “I love you so much. Every bit of you. I love your powers, and I’m proud of them. I wouldn’t want you any other way.”

Violet hugged her, taking comfort in the familiar warmth of her, the smell of clean cotton and the perfume she always wore. Helen stroked her hair, then stood and lifted her daughter to her feet. “Time for bed?” she asked.

Violet nodded silently. Together they shuffled back to Violet’s bedroom, fingers intertwined. Helen tucked her in the way she had when Violet was a little girl, kissing her daughter goodnight. As Helen turned to leave, Violet murmured, “Mom?”

Helen glanced back over her shoulder and Violet could make out the outlines of the star-shaped burn beneath the lacy strap of her camisole. “Yes, dearest?”

“I love you too.”

As Violet sank back against the pillows, she felt exhaustion dragging at her like the tide. Crying always wore her out and left her limbs feeling like lead weights attached to her torso. She needed sleep, needed to rest and forget for a few brief hours just how much she’d learned about the dangers of the world. 

She’d ask about Tony in the morning.


End file.
